


Day Three: Nora & Patch

by claryherondale



Category: Hush Hush Saga - Becca Fitzpatrick
Genre: F/M, Fallen Angels, Fluff, Marriage, Romance, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claryherondale/pseuds/claryherondale
Summary: Day 3 of My 31 Favorite ShipsYears after Nora and Patch get married on paper, they decide to have a traditional wedding at a church. As Nora's best friend and maid of honor, Vee is there by her side as a reminder of everything that they fought for to get here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Actually posted this on time today. Hopefully tomorrow I will be able to do the same. Day 4/31 will be from a completely different fandom. 
> 
> This is complete fluff, so try to enjoy. 
> 
> I'm sure I'll write some smut for a few of the ships; I'm just not sure which ones will take that turn. I do know that tomorrow will just be more fluff (potentially sad fluff), but who knows what'll happen after that?

Vee stands by my side, my partner in this life always, and she smiles at me encouragingly. She’s wearing a bright, beautiful dress—I genuinely feel like all eyes will be on her, even though today is supposed to be my day. Well, mine and Patch’s. Vee looks me over, taking last-minute inventory on my appearance: hair, makeup, and dress.

“Nervous?” she questions me.

I glance down momentarily at the ring on the finger on her left hand. She did this. She finally found someone who isn’t either secretly working against us—or, well, someone who ended up dead. My stomach drops slightly at the thought of Scott. If he were still alive, I would want him to walk me down the aisle today. But he isn’t. He gave his life for me. And that’s the kind of sacrifice that I will never be able to forget.

“Yes,” I admit. “But Patch and I have been married for years now. We just didn’t have a big wedding or anything—it wasn’t the time back then, considering everything that had happened, but it is the time now. We’re all adults, and we decided we wanted this celebration of our love.”

“I totally stand by that, Nora,” she says. “You, more than anyone I’ve ever met, deserve this moment.”

“Should I change my last name after this? So that I’ll be Nora Cipriano?” I joke.

Vee laughs, and then we hear the music start on the other side of the doors. Patch and I decided if we were going to do this, we were going to be traditional—a big, beautiful, church wedding. Considering his correlation to heaven and angels and all of that, we debated whether or not it was actually a good idea. But honoring our love in a customary sense was what we wanted.

“Don’t trip,” says Vee as the doors are opened.

She starts her pathway down the aisle, before me as my maid of honor, my one and only bridesmaid.

I watch her as she leaves. I’m not yet visible, turned so that I’m obscured by the wall to the right side of the chapel. I look down at my dress, so pure and clean, a reflection of nostalgia for me. It’s tight around my chest and waist, flaring out into a mermaid-style fishtail at the bottom. It’s loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to make me at least appear as though I have a flattering figure underneath all these layers of white fabric.

The music shifts, giving me my cue. I turn the corner and begin walking down the aisle, my hands wrapped around my bouquet, bright red and fresh. The aroma from them is mildly calming, enough so that I can manage to swallow my nerves and look up as I walk in time to the rhythm of the basic bridal melody.

When my eyes meet Patch’s, my heart soars and the thought of everyone else watching me drains from my awareness. Even after all we’ve been through and the years we’ve spent together, the nights we’ve fallen asleep with our limbs tangled—now that he can actually feel my touch—and all of the mornings I’ve woken up in his arms, my body and mind still react to him the same. I feel it like a sharp spike through my blood, warming my veins every moment I’m near him.

And now, right at this moment, I am declaring my love to him in front of everyone. It seems like something we deserve, considering all of the things we’ve endured, and although I know that nothing will make this more official for either of us, this is a step we wanted to take in consideration to all of the “normal” things we’ve missed out on in life.

Patch’s face breaks into a wide, stunning smile as he sees me walking toward him in my dress, a symbol that I am his and always will be.

When I get to the altar, Vee subtly takes my flowers and then Patch holds my hands in his. He turns my wrist over, revealing my pale skin over spidery blue veins. Scrawled over it, below my palm, is dark, spiraling ink that reads: ANGEL. Patch smiles at the sight of it. I think, momentarily, about all the time he has spent kissing those letters on my skin. 

Patch looks at me, and he’s so heartwarmingly beautiful that I almost forget my own name. He takes my breath away, and I have to studiously force myself into inhaling and exhaling like a normal person while the minister begins reading the traditional wedding script. I try to focus on the words, but mostly, I’m just staring at the boy in front of me—this fallen angel who once tried to kill me and then protected me with everything he had.

Patch looks at me, all of me, every bit and piece of my body and soul, as he says, “I do.”

“Do you, Nora Grey, take Patch Cipriano to be your husband—to live together after God’s ordinance—in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?” the minister recites.

I watch Patch’s smile turn even more dazzling as I say, “I do.”

We exchange rings—he places an additional band on my finger, sliding it into place just before the one he gave me years ago—and then the minister allows us to kiss. It isn’t our first kiss as husband and wife, but it’s a meaningful kiss nonetheless. We turn and face the audience watching us, and they applaud us as we walk back down the aisle together.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Patch murmurs close to me as we leave the chapel. 

“Very,” I reply.

“I promise you that I will make tonight even more fun.”

I feel myself blush and my heart start stuttering with, well, excitement. That’s another thing we didn’t get after we got officially married in the eyes of the state: a honeymoon. But we’ll get that now. Patch holds my hand as we get in the limo and depart toward the reception. When we get to the hall, they allow Patch and me into a separate room while we wait for it to fill up. We get a moment alone, a slight breather from the mass of people, just to us.

“So,” I start, “you haven’t seen the dress before—what do you think of it?”

“It’s . . . beyond words, Nora.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” I say, biting my lip.

Patch takes my jaw gently in between his fingers. “Of course I do.” He takes a shaky breath. ”I would like to be the one biting that lip.”

He leans in toward me and kisses me harshly, caressing me ardently. He lets go of my chin and tangles his fingers into my hair, almost ripping my veil off, as I desperately pull his dress shirt out of where it’s tucked into his pants. I begin running my fingers across his muscled abdomen, and he groans and pulls away from me.

“We don’t have time to do this and get redressed. I’d mess up your makeup and your hair, and we won’t be able to fix it before they’re ready for our first dance together,” he says by way of explanation.

I crawl up into his lap, a little bit awkwardly considering my dress, and he wraps his arms around me almost unwillingly. I lean into him and start kissing his neck, sucking on the skin there with bruising pressure.

“Nora,” he says, the sound of my name coming from a deep place in the back of his throat, “I really, really need you to stop.”

I move away from him, blinking innocently at my husband. “Why?”

“I’m not going to be able to stop,” he says, although he knows that I already realize that I’m pushing his limits. “And do you honestly think that no one out there is going to notice the hickeys?”

I smile a little deviously. “We just had our wedding—it’s normal.”

“After the reception, it’s normal. We’re not the type of couple who screws in the reception hall’s bathroom.”

I laugh. “We totally are, and you know it.”

“Yes, I do,” he says with a smirk. “But we have plenty of time for that later. I promise you, I will not let you leave the bedroom of the hotel all week long.”

“Why are we even bothering to go to Italy then?”

“We’ll open our curtains so we have a beautiful, picturesque view while we tear each other apart,” he says, leaning in to kiss along my jaw and up to my ear, taking a moment to gently nibble on my naked earlobe.

I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t decided to not wear earrings for that reason alone.

“Sounds lovely,” I say.

He kisses me again, more tenderly this time. There’s a knock on the door, and someone tells us that the band is ready for our first dance. So we both get up and leave the room, hand in hand as we join our family and friends in this celebration of the life we have finally managed to secure together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hint for tomorrow's ship:   
> "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,  
> But in ourselves, that we are underlings."  
> Julius Caesar (I, ii, 140-141)


End file.
